To Lay By Your Side
by catsonscooters
Summary: Finley has been content with being alone most of her life. The destruction of the old world serves as a minor distraction in her quest for happiness within solitude but the biggest shake-up comes in the form of a man and a barbed wire bat that's thirsty for her blood. *biggest cheeseball award for descriptions goes to me*
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there! I, like many others, have fallen into the vortex of Negan and figured I'd try my hand at writing. It's a short** **chapter but I've already got the second one in the editing stage and hope you stick around!**

I just want to catch my breath. Since the world went to shit, my anxiety has been at DEFCON 1: Maximum readiness. The way I feel, I might as well be in the Oval Office with my asscheeks clenched so damn hard I've got a piece of the fine Italian leather chair lodged between my crack and a shaking finger on the big red button of doom, ready to blow the world to smithereens.

Except, wait, the world is already fucked and I'm not sitting pretty on Pennsylvania Avenue; I'm laid out on the fucking forest floor while listening to the ever-present chorus of flesh eaters as they move in from all angles, ready to cash in on the free buffet that is my mangled body.

It'd been foolish to jump from the tree I'd sought shelter in, but hindsight is 20/20 and a massive pain in the ass and a whole bunch of shoulda, coulda, woulda, but in the end I did it and now I'm paying for it. My twisted ankle had slowed me down, but it wasn't too bad until I mistook the bank of the creek I'd been following for solid ground only to have it cave under my weight. The sound of a bone breaking is one that doesn't fade into oblivion as easily as one might hope. What started as a sprained ankle was now a full-blown situation and I quickly found myself up shit creek without a goddamn paddle.

I tried to push through it, I really did, but when you're alone in this new world you've already got every odd stacked against you but add an injury to those odds and you're well and truly fucked. So I guess I shouldn't be too upset that I'm about to be dinner for the undead. When you stop to think about it, was there really anything worth fighting for anymore? I permanently smelled like a prepubescent teenager after gym class and my ankle throbbed like no other with every spiteful step I took and for what? To find another tree to call home for the night? To wake with the sun beating down on my burnt skin and dry eyes? To feel the pain of talking to the wind with only the sound of silence as a response day in and day out?

Fuck Pennsylvania Avenue and all the comforts of a home, I'm perfectly happy on the floor of this strange forest. Death will come to me as a friend, something I haven't had in such a very long time and I'll take comfort in that.

But the sound of the flesh eaters as they stumble closer to me shakes me from my peace and I remember that I don't want to die, not really. I don't want to feel the chipped and rotting teeth tearing through my flesh. I don't want to feel the warmth of my blood as it leaves my body. I don't want this and yet, what can I do? So I close my eyes and offer a prayer to anyone who might be listening to make it quick, just make it as quick as can be. I listen to the horde of death and try to redirect the focus on my breathing instead. In and out, in and out, in and out. Then I hear the gunshot. 


	2. Chapter 2

One gunshot turned into two and two turned into four until the forest was alive with the echo of gunfire. As quickly as it comes on it goes, overtaken once more by the silence. I found myself curled into a ball, my shaking hands desperately pulling my knees closer to my chest in some half-assed hope that maybe this will help my situation.

The quiet lingers for a moment, the dust around me settling into an uncomfortable limbo between chaos and calm. The first sound is the crunch of leaves and fallen twigs under a heavy pair of boots. In a mute game of follow the leader, more footsteps shatter the silence, the sound growing louder as they make their way closer to me.

I like to believe that a level-headed version of myself would grab for the knife on my hip, ready and willing to protect myself to the death. I'd spring up from the ground with a giant 'fuck you' to my ankle and demand to know who these strangers were, waving my knife at them like I meant business and wouldn't hesitate to tarnish the perfectly silver blade with their blood if they tried any funny business. Maybe I'd just get up and start killing, no questions asked.

In my mind I'd be capable of doing these things but the reality was much more pathetic. I'd never killed another breathing human and I was in no position to stand on my own two feet. I remained in my ball of pity, snot beginning to pool on the leaves that I rested my head on and I briefly allowed myself to think how utterly gross it was before the footsteps came to a stop a few feet away.

"We got a live one, boys," a gruff voice announced, earning a few responsive groans and a string of amused chuckles from those around him. I listened as the stranger took two steps towards me, my eyes watching as his scuffed boots stopped in front of my face.

"Well hello there, sunshine," he greeted, pausing to kneel in front of me. "Looks like you're in a bit of a predicament."

I raised my gaze slowly to see the owner of the first voice I'd heard in over a month. His face was tugged into a smile although I felt no reassurance. His thinning hair was pushed back, his only distinguishing feature being a dark mustache that sat atop his upturned lips.

"I'm Simon. These are my men and they promise not to hurt you so long as you cooperate with us, does that sound like something you can get on board with?"

Looking around, I could see that I was far outnumbered. Around 15 men stood round me, each outfitted with enough assault rifles and ammo to blast my ass from here clear to the Atlantic Ocean with bullets to spare. Simon was giving me a choice, but we both knew the only choice at hand was if I wanted to live or I wanted to have a magazine emptied into my stomach. I'd made it 23 years without getting shot and I figured it was a pretty good record to try and keep so I gave him a curt nod.

"Good, that's what I like to see. You'd be surprised at how many people simply do not like to work with us. That's a lot of people we have to kill and, quite frankly, it gets a little old. It's refreshing to find someone so willing to strike up a partnership. Now, first things first, it's polite to introduce yourself. I've told you my name, so now you'll tell me yours."

I swallowed, not sure if my voice would even work. "Finley."

"Well, Finley, you look like you could use a hand. You happen to have a group nearby?"

I shook my head.

"No? You mean to tell me a pretty little thing like yourself is living out here all by her lonesome?"

I tried to ignore how my skin crawled at his tone. He wasn't implying that he was impressed or concerned; he was pleased to know I was alone. Whatever reasoning he had behind his joy at his discovery I felt it better left untouched.

"Well, this makes things a bit easier. You see now you've got a choice, Finely. You can continue on your merry little way, although if we're being honest I've got a feeling we'd be putting you down like we did these suckers," he gestured to the unmoving flesh eaters that littered the ground, "if you chose option number one. Or, and this is the better choice if you're asking my opinion, you can saddle up in one of our trucks and come back home with us.

Now, mind you, it's not a free ride. You'll be put to work like the rest of us and there are rules that need to be followed but you're guaranteed a roof over your head and protection from these undead sorry sons of bitches. It's up to you, but I need an answer and I need it quick because daylight's fading and I really don't feel like being out here any longer than I have to be."

I could feel my heart rate picking up. When I woke up this morning, I thought my biggest worry would be navigating around with a broken ankle. I'd left my blanket and bag up in my tree in confidence that I'd be back tonight and now I was being offered an actual home. Four walls and a bed, how could I say no? The slimy grin on Simon's face was concerning but he was right. If I continued on by myself, it'd be only a matter of time before I was shuffling around like an alcoholic leaving the bar at 2AM with flesh caught in my teeth and dried blood caked on my rotting skin.

"Are there other people there?" I questioned, not certain heading into the den with just the men present was a better alternative to a drawn out death.

"Honey, we got ourselves a fully functioning society. We got women, children, eligible bachelors like ourselves," he paused to wink and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "We've got breakfast, lunch, and dinner and hell we even got dessert on special occasions. You're gonna have to trust me if you don't believe me but I'll tell you again: you need to make a fucking decision soon, I'm tired of waiting and our boss doesn't tolerate tardiness."

The throbbing of my ankle spurred me on and I found myself releasing my grip on my knees, letting my body melt against the ground for a moment. My breathing came out in a short, hurried rhythm.

Inoutinoutinout.

"I'll go."

"What's that? Didn't quite here you, darling."

"I said I'll go."

Simon clapped his hands together, the sound amplified by the quietness surrounding us. "Wonderful! Boys, lets get her up and into the truck. Let's make it quick though, we don't have all day."

I yelped as two strong arms hooked under my arm and lifted me to my feet. My body unwillingly fell back against the man that lifted me. "My ankle," I mumbled in explanation.

Simone walked over and dropped down in front of me once more, examining the unnatural angle of my broken bone.

"Well, shit. Dave, get over here and help carry her," he called over to another man with stringy hair that fell to his unnaturally wide shoulders. "Sorry about that, sugar. Hang on tight."

I swallowed the scream of surprise as Dave swung me over his shoulder and began to walk behind the others. My face was level with some strange man's ass and I found myself asking for a quick death for the second time today. A few agonizing minutes later, Dave's ass and my face were now in a casual relationship and I was fully trained to breathe solely out of my mouth as my nose had caught one whiff of the sweat pooled in the small of his back and had permanently signed off duty.

I was set down into the back seat of the truck. The windows had been blacked out and I couldn't see a hair in front of my face.

"Just hold tight and we'll be there real soon," Simon called form what I assumed to be the driver's seat. I listened as he turned the key and cursed as the engine turned over a few times. Finally, the truck roared to life and we were off. Each bump came as a surprise and I found my head banging off the windows more than once, much to my displeasure. My ankle ended up bearing my weight more than I intended and I knew that if it could talk it would pull me real close and whisper a violent 'fuck you' to me.

Just as I was beginning to get lost in imaginary conversations with my limbs, the truck rolled to a stop. My heart rate began to pick up again and the palms of my hands were growing sweatier than a virgin's on prom night. Without warning, the back doors swung open and light flooded in. I squinted as I let myself adjust from one extreme to the other. I winced as I caught sight of Dave as he moved to grab me.

"Go grab her one of our chairs," Simon ordered to an unseen man. Dave kept me awkwardly over his shoulder as we waited for the stranger to return. Just as my legs were beginning to go numb, I felt myself being lowered into a rusty wheelchair. Looking up, I was stunned to see a multi-floor factory. The sounds from inside were that of normalcy. Conversations blended together into an indistinct murmur with stray giggles peppered throughout. People were walking by as they did their jobs and none of them had the fear in their eyes that I'd come to know so well. For a moment, it looked as if we'd stumbled upon a residual haunting of the world before it dissolved into a puddle of shit.

Simon clapped a hand onto my shoulder, pulling me back into the present.

"Welcome to the Sanctuary."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again! A huge thank you to those who have reviewed and followed/favorited! You're all beautiful and awesome and make my heart happy! I'm feeling some major momentum for this story so I've got a few chapters already going. Hopefully you'll enjoy the introduction of Negan. He's pretty difficult to capture so I'm hoping he comes across genuine. Thank you again to the beauties that have showed support and here's to hoping you'll continue to enjoy the story! Happy reading! ~Sorry for any errors, but it's 4:30 AM and I really wanted to get this out~**

The creak of the wheelchair as it wobbled over gravel was beginning to drive me mad. Just as I was about to speak up, we transitioned to the smooth concrete of the factory floor.

"You'll get the grand tour soon enough, but you've gotta meet with the boss man before you can do anything else," Simon informed me as he steadily pushed me further into the walls of the Sanctuary. We traveled to the top floor and I briefly admired the view from a passing window. "Now, a little warning. You're gonna want to keep yourself in line. Negan is very willing to work with those who work with him but if he senses you're not loyal, well, let's just not go there. Just listen to him and keep your head down and you'll be fine. He's a damn good man and he'll take care of those who offer their services to him and the rest of the Sanctuary."

I swallowed loudly at his words. The fuck kind of name was Negan anyway? The way he talked about him you would think he painted the goddamn Sistine chapel with his toes or some shit. A small part of me was feeling nervous but the bigger, more problematic part of me, was curious to put a face to a name.

We slowed as we neared a large wooden door. Simon walked in front of me and gave three loud knocks before stepping back and awaiting an answer.

"Enter," a gravelly voice commanded, his deep voice seeming to echo off of every surface of the hallway.

Simon didn't hesitate as he pushed open the door and took his position behind my chair, diligently pushing me over the threshold and into what appeared to be a parlor of some sorts with a leather couch in one corner and a deep redwood desk in the other. Behind the desk sat a broad shouldered man clothed in a fine leather jacket and an off-white shirt underneath. His dark eyes were locked on us as we moved further into the room and I found myself shrinking against the worn back of the wheelchair. I let my eyes wander to the bat that rested on the side of his desk. It's wood was stained with what I presumed to be blood and the barbed wire wrapped around the end was worn and rusted yet no less deadly.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" He asked, resting his elbows against the top of the desk.

"Found her out in the woods a few miles from the compound," Simon explained. "Seems to have broken her ankle but she didn't have a group and I figured we could find some use of her."

"Oh, I'm fairly fucking certain we can find someplace for her. Tell me, darlin', what's your name?"

I found myself momentarily transfixed by his voice. It was rough like sandpaper yet flowed like espresso and I found myself never wanting him to cease talking.

"I think I asked you a fucking question, did I not?"

And just like that, I was perfectly fine if he never uttered a word in my presence as long as I lived, which incidentally might not be much longer judging by the murderous expression on this man's face.

"Uh, Finley," I replied, my eyes flickering between his face and the floor.

"Well, 'uh Finley', I'm Negan. I'm sure Simon here has told you a bit about where we're at, am I correct?"

I nodded.

"You know, doll face, it's really fucking polite to fucking answer someone when they ask you a goddamn motherfucking question. That's twice in this short little conversation that I've had to prompt you to respond. I won't do it again."

I felt my cheeks go aflame at his threat. Whether or not he would carry through on his promise I didn't care to discover. I let my eyes quickly glance at the bat by his side. He followed my gaze and grinned, his eyes full of mischief.

"Ah, forgive my manners but I believe I forgot to introduce you to my number one girl. This," he began, reaching down to tenderly grip the handle of the bat, "is Lucille. You do what you're told and speak when you're spoken to and you won't have to formally meet her. If you fuck up in any way, however, well, let's cross that bridge when we get there. Now, I believe you were about to answer my fucking question."

"You're correct," I answered, the tremble in my voice betraying the calm expression I was trying to maintain.

His grin widened into a full pearly white smile, clearly pleased by my obedience.

"Good girl. Simon, you can head out, I'll call you when I need you."

Simon nodded in acknowledgment before swiftly exiting the room, leaving me at the mercy of the man in front of me.

"Well, now that we've got some alone time," he winked at me and I fought to keep a neutral expression, "why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself."

I fiddled with my hands, unsure of what exactly to say.

"Well, I broke my ankle when I fell into a creek and Simon and your men found me about to be eaten by-"

He held up a hand to stop me.

"That's all well and dandy, darlin', but I don't give three hairs off a rats ass about that. I can get that story from one of my men. What I want to know is what the fucking fuck were you doing all by yourself out there?"

"I had a group for a few months but things just fell apart so I ventured out on my own. I did alright for the most part but my injury held me back quite a bit."

His eyes narrowed and I felt myself shrinking even further into my chair, fearing I'd said something wrong.

"Now, just a second. The fuck do you mean, 'things fell apart'? Things don't just fucking fall apart baby girl. They're either ripped apart by something or they're fucking left behind. Now, which one fits your little story? Someone come and wipe out all your pals or did you decide to play lone fucking ranger?"

I paused, taken aback by the accuracy of his statement.

"I left," I admitted.

He smiled once again, his eyes alight with pleasure. Had I not been so damn scared, I might have taken a brief moment to admire how handsome he looked when he grinned. I can only imagine how much more attractive he might be when his smile wasn't a beard for an ulterior motive.

"And why on earth would you do that, Finely? Up and leave a perfectly good group?"

"I do better alone," I confessed, surprised at how easy it was to reveal such information. Maybe it felt good to speak it aloud. It might fuck me over but it wasn't like I had much to lose at this point anyway.

"Well, if that's the case, what the fuck are you doing here? Do you know you willingly agreed to be apart of a group or are you just fucking slow?"

I winced at his words, unsure how to respond but knowing my silence would anger him.

"I do better alone," I repeated, slowly searching for the right words, "but maybe it isn't working as well as I thought."

He barked out a short laugh. "I'd say! You broke your fucking ankle and you were almost walker chow! That's a damn fine assessment, girl. Now, what I really want to know is, what the fuck can you do for me?"

"I, uh, I'm not sure. I'm good at scavenging," I offered.

"We've got enough people for runs."

"What do you need me to do?"

His eyes were enveloped in a darkness that made my hands tremble as they twisted nervously in my lap.

"I can think of plenty of fucking things I need you to do, darlin', but, frankly, I'm not too sure you're up for it just yet. For now, though, I think we can find you a nice position mending clothes. Not much to do with a broken bone around here."

I gave a small nod, unsure of what to say in response.

He abruptly stood and I marveled at how much space he occupied. His physical frame was undeniably impressive with his strong arms and tall figure and yet he seemed to command all available space around him. It was almost as if he were the center of a vortex that demanded the immediate attention of everyone around him.

"I do believe you've earned yourself a tour of your new home, what do you say?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," I managed, still transfixed by his presence.

"Wonderful! I'll wheel you to Dwight and he can take it from there," he concluded matter-of-factly.

I felt a brief inexplicable sense of disappointment. It was logical that a man in charge of such a bustling compound have other things to tend to than the redundancy of giving tours to poor suckers like me. And yet, I found myself wanting to forge a bond with him. Perhaps it was the fact that it was always beneficial to have an in with the leader of a group for practical reasons. Maybe I was so desperate for human contact that I'd settle for a charmingly crass asshole. Either way, I felt my spirits fall just a little as his nonchalant handoff of me.

Before I had any more time to dwell on the tug-of-war between the thoughts in my mind, I was being wheeled back out of the room and down the familiar hallway towards the entrance of the camp. Negan's tuneless whistle echoed off the walls and broke the eerie silence surrounding us as we made our way to our destination. Finally, after travelling back down to the ground floor, we entered into a small courtyard where a handful of men not unlike those who picked me up earlier were gathered.

"Dwight, my buddy!" Negan called, his voice booming over the casual conversation of those standing nearby.

Those who caught sight of him fell to their knees in a seemingly medieval show of respect and acknowledgment. I felt my brows knit together in confusion but my common sense told me to keep my damn mouth shut and for once, I wisely listened.

"I'm going to need you to show our new guest around. As you can clearly fucking see, she's gone and fucked up her ankle so you're going to have to be extra goddamn careful. Now, I do believe proper introductions are in order," he paused, stepping aside and gesturing to the kneeling blonde man in front of me. "Dwight, this is Finley. Finley, this here is Dwight. He'll take real good care of you, won't you Dwight?"

Dwight lifted his gaze to Negan offering an enthusiastic nod that sent strands of stringy blonde hair into his cautious eyes.

"Yes," he mumbled.

"Great! I love it when everything works out so goddamn well. This is where I leave you, Finely. You'll be just fucking fine here. It's really very simple. You do your fucking job and we won't have any issues, capiche?"

"Capiche."

"Good girl. See you around, Finn."

I felt my stomach flip at his use of my nickname and knew I was completely and utterly fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

**First of all, a HUUUGE thank you to everyone that has followed/favorited! You're all awesome and I'm super duper excited you're interested enough to stick around! To my lovely reviewers, I'm very flattered by your words and it means the world to me that you took the time to let me know your thoughts! I can't say thank you enough! You're truly the definition of the bees knees.  
** **Admittedly, this is kind of a boring chapter but it's necessary to set up the story. Rest assured the next chapter is in the editing stage and will feature the return of our favorite, heavily attractive, bat-obsessed Negan! Thanks again for stopping by and happy reading, you beautiful little ducklings!**

"Can I ask you a question?"

Dwight grunted, which I took as a reluctant concession of my wish.

"Are you purposefully trying to hit every rock and crack or is that just fate trying to fuck with me?"

We stopped abruptly and my eyes became level with Dwight's blue orbs.

"Can I ask _you_ a question?"

I nodded, already feeling the tickle of regret at the back of my throat.

"Are you trying to be funny or are you actively pining to win the biggest pain in the ass award?"

"Do I get a trophy?"

He rolled his eyes and took his place behind my wheelchair. I felt the chair jerk to the left as we rolled over a large divot in the concrete, sending my head from side to side.

" _Now_ I'm actively trying to hit every rock and pothole in this joint."

I groaned, suffering in my own self-induced gloom as we continued on our journey. So far we'd stopped at the laundry room where I would be working and mending clothes as well as the makeshift mess hall where meals were served.

We rolled down the hall until we reached a door separate from the others that mirrored one another up and down the corridor.

"Home sweet home," Dwight announced, pushing open the door and revealing a room the size of a large closet. It was clearly big enough for the twin bed that sat in the corner and a small dresser but that seemed to be about all that it housed.

"You're lucky," he began, parking me at the entrance so that I could see my humble abode, "you got a single room. Most of the newcomers are paired off with a bunch of roommates."

I scanned the room, finding myself appalled at my own audacity in criticizing it. I'd been sleeping in goddamn trees like a post-apocalyptic Tarzan and here I was sticking my nose in the air because my new home wasn't a Hilton suite. I'd been living like a heathen and my first step to recovery was right in front of my eyes.

"What about the bathroom?" I asked, pushing myself back to face Dwight once more, trying not to look obvious as I studied the marring of his face. I'd noticed it briefly before but being in the presence of Negan and his big, bad bat of death had claimed most of my attention.

"There's one at the end of the hall. It's got showers and toilets," he answered, looking incredibly bored. "Looks like you've seen all you need to see. I'll leave you to it," he concluded, spinning on his heel and heading back the way we came.

"What the hell…" I trailed off, watching his disappearing figure until he was out of sight. I sat in my chair, utterly confused as to what it was he was leaving me to. It's not like I had a wardrobe to put away as I'd stupidly left my bag of belongings at the top of some random ass tree. As I mused my next plan of action, my stomach let out a growl that seemed to echo down the entire hallway and I was reminded of our earlier stop at the mess hall.

It turns out wheeling yourself up and down ramps is a lot harder than it looks, and it looks pretty damn hard. By the time I'd reached the mess hall, sweat was beading on my forehead and my arms felt like a toddler had had a field day with Stretch Armstrong. Imagine my dismay when I saw the cooks putting away the food instead of preparing it.

"Sorry miss, dinner has already been served," one of the cooks called, not bothering to make eye contact.

"So you're saying I can't get anything?"

"Nope. Dinner always ends exactly at 7, you're five minutes late."

I should have known this place would be stricter than a convent of nuns on lockdown.

Taking a deep breath, I began to turn myself around, positively dreading the journey back to my room on an empty stomach.

"Hi there."

I turned my gaze on the strange brunette in front of me. Her chestnut locks fell to her bare tanned shoulders and the colorful sundress she wore hung effortlessly down to her knees while hugging her in all the right places.

"Hello," I began, immediately wary of her intentions.

"I'm Sherry," she stuck out a hand to me and I took it, giving her a quick, awkward shake.

"Finely."

"I heard you missed dinner. Please, take my plate," she urged, handing me a chipped plate that housed some type of mystery meat and a side of green beans.

I shook my head. "I couldn't take your dinner, I'll be alright until tomorrow."

"I insist, I've got plenty of food upstairs."

"You do?"

"I'm one of Negan's wives, I'm pretty well taken care of," she assured me, casually taking the open seat next to my wheelchair.

I felt the color drain from my face. "Wives? As in plural?"

"Yeah, you heard right. There are a few of us that live upstairs. He lets us live without working or earning our keep and in return we, well…"

"Fulfill your wifely duty?"

She blushed, "Yes."

"Wow," I meekly replied. It was weird enough that I was mildly physically attracted to a dictator that was at least twice my age and swung a barbed wire bat around like he was the Alex Rodriguez of the apocalypse but now I find out that he's also into polygamy? What a fucking trip.

"So, will you take my plate? I'm sure you don't have enough points for a meal yet anyway."

"Points?" I prompted, finally taking the plate and biting off a piece of a cold green bean.

"Dwight didn't really explain anything to you did he?"

"How did you-"

"He always does the tours. He's quick and covers the basics but sometimes he really lacks common sense," she chastised with a playful smile.

"Do you know him well?"

She quickly returned her face to a neutral expression. "We were married, before I became a wife to Negan."

"Oh, I-"

"So points," she began, effectively cutting off my impending line of questioning. "Basically, you work your assigned job and instead of getting paid with money you earn points. You can use points for food, clothes, medical attention, toiletries, et cetera. They add up pretty quickly so don't worry too much about that. I'm guessing you'll start work tomorrow so you'll be set for dinner."

I nodded, taking in the information. I had to remind myself that I'd spent months on my own with my asscheeks hugging the branch of a tree every night and the roasted guts of a squirrel serving as my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"You look exhausted," she suddenly observed. I'm sure I looked like a sweaty pile of shit but 'exhausted' was a polite way of conveying the same message. "I can help you get back to your room, if you want?"

"That would be great, thank you," I answered, scooping the last of the mystery meat into my mouth and placing the empty plate on the table. She began to push me, much more gently than I had yet to experience and while I was still suspicious of her as I was with everyone I encountered within these walls, I couldn't help but feel some degree of gratitude.

We arrived at my door with some guidance from my faulty memory a few moments later. She offered to help get me into bed and I graciously accepted, feeling utterly spent and ready to fall into a deep sleep.

"I'll speak to Negan about getting you someone to help you out. You can't be expected to wheel yourself all around. It wouldn't hurt to have Dr. Carmen look at your ankle, either. As for clothes, I'll look and see if I have anything that you could borrow."

I felt my cheeks burn with her unexpected generosity.

"I'm very thankful, you've been the biggest help I've had since I got here."

"I know it can be difficult. I wish someone would have helped me when I first arrived, maybe things would have been different." Her eyes were far off as if she were picturing what could have been. As quickly as she let her mind wander, she was back, plastering a kind smile across her clean face. "I'll see you around, Finley."

"Thank you again," I called as she retreated from my room. She shot me a final smile before closing the door gently behind her.

For the first time since this morning, I was alone with my own thoughts again. They raced a million miles a minute but the last one I coherently recall before falling into a dreamless slumber was the face of the man who commanded every person within this compound, and it looked as if I was no exception.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again! Another ginormous thank you to those who reviewed! Your words are so kind and make me feel warm and fuzzy! Also a giant thank you to those who followed/favorited! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. It's a bit short but I'm in the process of outlining the story and I'm so excited to see how these two interact. I hope you're in it for the long haul because it'll certainly be awhile until we see some much deserved action.  
*Also can we just talk about tonight's episode?! Holy tits on a cow, every line Negan spoke had me rolling around on the floor. Feel free to talk to me here or on tumblr (lokillamas13) if you ever feel the need to fangirl with someone or bounce some ideas off one another! You're all awesome and happy happy happy reading!**

"Wakey, wakey, sunshine!"

I startled myself awake, the sudden infiltration of noise in my otherwise quiet room sending alarm bells off throughout my body.

"Come on, sugar, I haven't got all goddamn day!"

The realization of the owner of the voice washed over me like a bucket of ice water in the middle of December. Fucking Negan.

My chair seemed like it was a desert and an ocean away and I reached my hand out as far as my body would allow in a pathetic attempt to bring it closer to me. Sherry appeared kind and well-intended but I got the feeling she was a fucking dumbass. Parking my wheelchair on the other side of this tiny ass room was either a major slip up on her part or she was actually trying to slowly break me. Either way I was irked, to say the least.

"Just a little more," I urged myself, stretching my fingers in vain. "Almost there-oomph!"

My upper body collided harshly with the unforgiving concrete and my legs slowly trickled out of bed landing in two separate thuds.

"Fuck!" I ground out, both frustrated by my fall and the pain that shot up my leg from my injured ankle.

"Alright darlin', I've given you _puh_ -lenty of time to get yourself decent but I'm tired of fucking waiting so get ready!"

I cringed as I heard my door swing open, my view temporarily blocked by my bed.

"Well shit, where the fuck are you?" He questioned, his heavy boots echoing off the walls as he made his way further into the room and closer to me. "Ah, there you are! Looks like you've already fallen for me. Well shit, darlin', I'm fucking flattered but we hardly fucking know each other!"

I ground my teeth together in an effort to keep my comments to myself.

"Can you help me up?" I asked, swallowing my pride and resorting to the safest response.

A gritty laugh escaped his parted lips and I immediately regretted asking him for any type of assistance.

"Well now, sugar, if we're being honest, and I really hope we're being fucking honest, I think I like you on the floor like this, makes it a bit easier to know you're gonna goddamn listen to what I've got to say." He whistled absentmindedly as he took hold of my wheelchair and pulled it right in front of me. "You know, it's fucking polite to offer your guest a seat when you welcome them into your home. Since you're lacking basic decent goddamn manners, I'll go ahead and seat myself, " he paused to lower himself into my chair, the wheels creaking ever so slightly under his weight. "Now, a little birdy with particularly nice tits told me that you're in need of a few things. Was this busty bird correct, Miss Finley?"

I struggled to sit up, grunting as I swept my ankle against the floor and under my leg.

"That would be correct."

He brought his hand up to his chin and absentmindedly rubbed the gray speckled scruff that grew along his jaw. "Well, it seems we've reached a bit of an impasse then. You see, you need something that I can give, but, Finny, what the fuck do you have to give?"

I thought about his question. The way he spoke often had me wondering whether he wanted a serious answer or he was simply speaking in riddles to make you look like a dumbass.

"I could be a wife," I ventured, my voice small and meek even in the all-consuming silence of the room. I will never quite understand what possessed me to offer such a thing. I had no desire to become one of his mindless wives that lounged around and sucked the teat of the big bad wolf just so they could have a house on easy street. The thought sprang to my mind like a dull light flickering on. It was certainly a comprehensible thought and yet in no way did it reflect my true self or desires. I hadn't prepared myself for the consequences of my proposal but I sure as hell wasn't ready for the hearty laugh that seemed to endlessly flow from his lips like a song of mocking.

He took a few breaths and slowed his laughter to a sporadic chuckle. "So you're offering to take up with little old me? Am I hearing this right or are you playing fucking mind games with me?"

I paused. It seemed too late to take the words back and it appeared I was well and truly fucked either way.

"I meant it."

"Well, sweetheart, I'm tickled. It's not often that a woman comes to _me_ with such a proposition and I have to say I'm really fucking digging the change of pace. That being said," he leaned forward as if he was about to explain a concept to a child, "I'm gonna have to say no."

I heard my mouth fall open with a soft pop of my lips. "No?" I repeated, not bothering to hide my surprise any longer.

"I know, shocks the hell out of me too."

For all his flaws and our short time together, I found myself embarrassed and defeated at his rejection of me. True, the only boyfriend I'd ever had was my best friend Jacob in seventh grade and the most sexual thing I'd done was a steamy make out session with a stranger at a bar my sophomore year of college but I was having some serious trouble deducing why he'd turned me down. Sure my thighs touched and my yellow hair was frizzy and dirty but I had a heartbeat and a pair of tits and I was willing. Going by Negan's standards that should have been enough yet here I was feeling like I'd just been stood up at the senior fucking prom.

"Listen, darlin', don't look too much into it. You just can't give me what I need. You're gonna work just like everyone else and you're gonna do a really fucking good job, right?"

I was positively fuming on the inside at the way he could so nonchalantly deliver such a message. He refused me as easily as if someone had asked him if he wanted gravy on his goddamn mashed potatoes. A quick dismissal and no further thought. Fuck him and his perfectly white teeth and his panty-dropping smile, who the fuck needed him?

"That's right. I'm gonna do the best job and I'm gonna earn so many goddamn points that I won't ever need you again," I spat, my anger and hurt bubbling over into a verbal jab.

He clicked his tongue. "Don't get fucking carried away, doll face. If I recall correctly, the whole fucking reason I'm in this shithole of a room is because you _do_ need me. You need a doctor and you need a little helper to get you around because you're too fucking weak to do it yourself. These are things I can fucking give but you're gonna need to lose the goddamn fucking attitude or else we're gonna have a whole new can of problematic fucking worms. Are we goddamn clear, _Finn?"_

The way he snarled my name sent a shiver through me. The last time he'd used my nickname I'd felt the flutter of butterfly wings and now I felt the chill of ice running through my veins. I'd overstepped a boundary and he wasn't pleased. I tried to reassure myself that at the very least, I'd managed to wipe that cocky ass grin off his pretty face.

"We're clear," I replied, trying hard to keep my voice level and the warring thoughts within me quiet.

"Now, I get that you might be a little pissed that you're being put to work. My best advice is to get the fuck over it and move on. If you're gonna mope around like the pain in the ass you are quickly evolving into, we're just not gonna fucking get along. Would you feel better if I apologized for turning you down?"

"No."

"Good! Because I don't fucking apologize to anyone for anything to make them _feel_ better. This isn't a goddamn Chuck E. Cheese, sweetheart. You toughen the fuck up or I will gladly fucking show you the way out. Think we can manage?"

I took a breath and steadied my mind. "I can manage."

He smiled his megawatt smile and I struggled to keep my thoughts neutral and my pulse relaxed. "Good girl! See, you're fucking learning. Now, since it seems you have nothing to give me, I'm thinking we're just not gonna be able to make that deal you were fishing for."

He went to get up but I shot out a hand and instinctively placed it on his knee. We both looked down in shock at the contact and I quickly withdrew my touch from him.

"Wait, there's got to be something you need. What do you want from me?"

He sat back down and let his eyes roam over my body. A small part of me was nervous; no one had ever looked at me with such intensity before.

"I want a lot from you, darlin'. For fucking now, though, how about you stop up by my room tonight and every other fucking night until I say so. I need someone to clean my boots and mend my clothes and my last assistant-well, let's just say things didn't fucking work out so well. Don't look nervous, sweetheart!" He assured, seeing the color drain ever so slightly from my face. "As long as you don't try to steal from me you'll be fucking golden, unlike Steve who was just dying to get to know Lucille better."

I felt my eyes widen as I noticed for the first time the infamous bat propped against the door. "If I do that, you'll help me?"

"I'll get you a fucking helper but you're not fucking dying, you don't need the damn doctor. If you want to see him so goddamn bad put in your hours and pay for him yourself."

He stood from the chair, whistling as he lazily walked to the door, his right hand loosely gripping the handle of the bat as he effortlessly swung it upon his shoulder.

"Be at my room tonight at 6PM, not a goddamn fucking minute late do you understand?"

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, I can't fucking hear you."

"Yes."

"Atta girl. You're little buddy will be here soon to wheel your lazy ass around. See you tonight, Finn."

And with the click of the door he was gone and I felt my whole body physically deflate. Every conversation with him was like being blindfolded on a roller coaster. Not knowing when the hard curves and sudden drops would appear was beginning to give me whiplash and I stubbornly found myself being more intrigued by him rather than disgusted.

I was still learning a lot about the Sanctuary and the extensive list of rules that came with taking up residency here. One thing that I was sure of, though, was the fact that some bastard with a bat was taking up too much of my mind's space.

"Fucking Negan," I muttered once more to the empty room where his presence still lingered like a cloud of smoke. I was immersed in a world free from flesh eaters and yet I felt more in danger than I ever did beyond these walls.


End file.
